


No Way to Celebrate

by mandykaysfic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Established Relationship, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9710381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: Evan is sick of being sick on his birthday.





	

"Atishoo, atishoo, ah-ah-choo!" Evan sneezed himself awake. He reached for a handkerchief and had to content himself with reusing an already soggy ball of material. When he finished, he resisted looking at the contents and, realizing there wasn't another use to be had from that one, tossed it aside. It landed barely two feet from his bed, joining several others.

He sneezed again, groping anxiously for another handkerchief but there was none to be had. His t-shirt would easier to change than his sheets, so he made use of one sleeve and then fell back with a groan. Now he was going to have to get out of bed to get a clean t-shirt, as well as get some more handkerchiefs, if he had any left. 

If he could gather up the energy to stand under the shower for a while he might feel better. It took at least twenty minutes to get there, but it was worth it. The steam made it a little easier to breathe. Putting his forearm on the tiles, h bent forward and rested his head so the water could pour directly onto his upper back. When he coughed, he hawked up some green gobs. He watched them go down the drain and thought of his mother - coughing up green stuff meant you were really sick. Fluoro-green meant a trip to the doctor. 

He'd been to the Infirmary. Keller had diagnosed some sort of influenza. If he promised to follow her instructions to the letter, he could stay in his quarters. He promised. He'd rather spend his birthday in his own space than the Infirmary. He'd done that last year - with the remnants of a reaction to the stimulants and Kirsan fever. And the year before - recovering from surgery to injuries sustained in a mission gone bad. The year before that he'd been a member of SG11 and yes, he'd spent his birthday that year in Cheyenne Mountain's Infirmary. 

If Evan's mother were hers, she'd ignore the fact he was an airforce major in his thirties and change his sheets. She'd put a fresh cover on his pillow. She'd squeeze him some orange juice and make sure he took the painkillers. There'd be a mug of her patented lemon and honey remedy that contained five secret ingredients, the identity of which she'd promised to let him know one day. But for now, he'd have to remake his own bed, and maybe radio someone to bring him some juice from the mess.

He coughed into the shower water once more and then turned it off with a thought. It was a shame the towels didn't have some sort of ATA-guided technology that he could just think one into his hands. Hell, he could simply stand still while towels dried his body. Lost in a daydream of Star Trekian air drying tubes, which the Ancients really should have invented already, he wandered slowly out of the bathroom.

Damned if his bed wasn't made. He must be sicker than he thought. Clean boxers and t-shirt lay on the covers. The pile of snotty handkerchiefs had vanished from the floor while a dozen neatly stacked clean ones sat on the edge of the side table.

"Here." A glass of orange juice, not freshly squeezed, but chilled and in a glass instead of a plastic bottle, was placed in his hand.

"David. You shouldn't be here."

"Keller says you're not contagious."

"Oh. Well. You still shouldn't be here. I feel like shit."

"I'm not staying long. I just wanted to check on you and bring you some stuff." 

Before he could say anything, Evan sneezed again. 

They both reached for a handkerchief, David getting there first. "Here." When the sneezing finally stopped, he held out a bag containing Evan's sheets and other dirty clothes. "I'll deal with these."

"David," whined Evan. He wanted to protest, but suddenly, his small reserve of energy drained away and he flopped back onto the bed.

"Come on. Put these on." David tugged the clean boxers over Evan's feet. "Get back into bed." He plumped the pillows and settled Evan back against them, his actions as sure and competent as any nurse. "I've got something I think will help." He picked up a small jar from the side table and unscrewed the lid. 

"What is it?"

"Something Dr Rella and I concocted. Lie back." Parrish's fingers dipped into the jar, and he scooped out some liniment. 

Camphor, menthol and something else that teased the corner of Evan's memory and brought his mother briefly to mind once more. He drifted into a half sleep, not coughing or sneezing once as David's hands worked their magic.

"Better now?"

"Mmm hmm," murmured Evan.

"I'll be going then. Get some rest. And Evan? Happy birthday." David kissed his fingertips and pressed them to Evan's forehead before slipping away. Despite Dr Keller's assurances of non-contagion, he thought perhaps he wouldn't risk anything. "We'll celebrate properly when you're better."

Evan took a deep breath, drawing comfort from the heady aroma and thought that from next year, he was going to celebrate his birthday a month earlier.

END


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